Against the Darkening Sky
by Marie Vulffe
Summary: Prequel to Secondhand Sparks. There was nothing like running for your life from giant alien robots to really put things into perspective. Lieutenant Starling is just one of many to feel the aftershocks of Mission City, and one of the very few who can say they had a front row seat. Movie-AU.


For those of you following Sparks, I am so very sorry it's taken so long for an update. I just can't figure out how to get around the filler info chapter(s) that lead up to the good stuff. In the meantime, here's a short background story that will hopefully answer any questions you have about Alexis, and how she fits into the movie-verse.

A word about these characters: I do my best to ensure that OCs are as realistic and enjoyable as possible. Trying to find the right balance of humor, humanity and kickassery isn't easy, and sometimes their personalities can be overwhelming and/or irritating (I'm thinking of one in particular that you're about to meet). If something about them strikes you as a Mary Sue, feel free to tell me. I aim to please. Also…you're really not meant to know what's going on yet. That's why I love foreshadowing. It's so much fun to play with.

Just remember…when it comes to the Transformers world, there's always more going on than meets the eye. :D

Be sure and read Secondhand Sparks if you want more of this particular movie AU.

* * *

**AGAINST THE DARKENING SKY  
**You cannot cast a light without making shadows.**  
**

Grassid Air Base, Iraq – April 2007

The air hung thick as tar, making whoever dared venture out into it feel as if they were swimming, and drowning as a result. But no one stood idle in this place; everyone had their duties to see to, and deadlines to meet. So everyone was equally and democratically lathered in sweat, and systematically tugging at their shirt fronts to cool themselves. Air was too precious a commodity to waste, so any blue streaks anyone happened to be cursing were kept to a minimum – out loud, anyway.

Starling and Frey had just landed from routine air patrol, and as soon as their cockpits were opened, the same oppressive, muggy hell descended upon them. Starling, despite being the younger of the two and not as used to the heavy air, merely grimaced and proceeded to clamber out of her bird. To her left she could hear her wing mate snarling quietly to himself, more out of habit than anything else.

She thought briefly about ignoring the stepladder they set up for her, but as she inhaled a lungful of searing air, she decided against it. For once she was grateful that they babied their flyboys. The blazing heat, distilled and sitting heavy in her cockpit thanks to her altitude, had stiffened her hands and legs, and despite her considerable pride about such things, let herself be guided down the ladder, and took a minute to catch her balance before letting go. The assist, a Corporal Tunney, backed off as she turned from the Raptor.

She heard Frey moan as he made his way over to her. "Getting too bloody old for this," was his complaint as always, and she snorted. The day Charles Frey retired would be the day the planet stopped spinning and the universe collapsed in on itself. She had known him since she was a teenager, and he'd tapped her as a recruit after graduation. The man didn't know the meaning of the word _quit,_ something that endeared him to her. It was one thing they had in common.

The assists threw them a canteen to share as they moved out of the hangar. Stepping into the unforgiving sunlight caused another moment of vertigo, but she withstood it stoically, her stride never breaking as she took a swig of tepid water. Her partner wasn't quite as composed; he grunted and ducked his head, shaking out the sweat that had accumulated in his buzz cut. Her smooth expression finally crumpled as she winced away in disgust. He'd done that solely to irritate her, she was sure of it. "Great Christ, Frey, I've got enough sweat of my own without you contributing." As she moved ahead of him, she heard his quiet, rasping chuckle.

"Now, Lady Disdain, a little bit of hard-earned sweat never did a body any harm. Puts hair on your chest, after all."

"I'll pass, thanks," was her disgruntled rejoinder. That was what they called her, though hardly ever to her face. Charles was one of the few who dared. He was the one who had started it, after all, and as old and grizzled as he was, had nothing to fear from a prissy 20-something-year-old whose spine seem to be permanently infused with a steel rod. That was the more polite way of phrasing it, at least.

Mess had just started, so she had barely enough time to bathe. Ducking into the barracks, she grabbed up a slip of soap and a change of clothes, and made for the shower shed. Four minutes later found her toweling off her shoulder-length hair, before whipping it back into its standard ponytail at the crown of her skull. She shook out her ears as she hustled to the mess tent, slipping quietly into a narrow spot between Frey and Johannson, the latter of who obligingly elbowed the wingman on his other side down a few inches to make room for her. She grunted her thanks and tucked into her plate. Another six and a half minutes and she was on her feet, depositing the tin flatware neatly onto the already teetering pile of dishes by the door, before ducking out again.

She had a report to fill out, and the sooner she got it out of the way, the sooner she could be asleep in her bunk. Frey would be nowhere near as punctual as she, but then again, most of them weren't. The majority of her squadron passed it off as obsessive-compulsive, but really, she was simply doing as she'd been raised. Her guardians had seen to it that she'd received the finest education possible after her parents had died, and being as how they were all military men, it made sense that they would instruct her in the same manner.

It wasn't until she was on her way to the officers' tent that she was intercepted by a Corporal from the Comm. tent. "Sir! A call came while you were out," he panted as he reached her, barely managing a salute as he doubled over in the heat. Alexis fumbled for a moment, genuinely surprised. Only a handful of people knew where she was stationed, and there was only one reason they would contact her. Her brows furrowed.

Corporal Yew caught the expression. "Says it's a Commander Starling?" he ventured, shrugging. "He didn't stay on, but he, ah, _insisted _that we let you know about it."

_Slag._ Alexis's stomach gave a disquieting lurch, and she grimaced. "Well, why the hell didn't someone inform me as soon as we touched down?"

"…Tunney said you looked like you might eat him if he opened his mouth before you'd showered. So we, ah, agreed that it was best for you to catch your breath before letting you know."

The Lieutenant made an exasperated noise in the back of her throat. _Spineless little grunts_, she thought waspishly. Surely she wasn't as horrible as all that.

Apparently she was, because Yew backed up a step beneath her glare. Rolling her eyes, she shooed him away, and once he was out of sight made a mad dash for the officers' tent to put that report to bed. Making the Commander wait for anything was never a good idea.

Gods. If they thought _she_ was bad, they obviously hadn't bothered talking to her brother.

Suddenly she wished she hadn't eaten so fast, as her stomach turned on itself. Conversations with this particular sibling tended to border on the intense, if he didn't like what she said. James took his role as head of the family light years past the edge of too far– She loved him past distraction, God help her, but he was still an egotistical prat.

Sighing between her teeth, she reached her destination and got down to business. Best to get the busy work out of her way first, so she would have more time to compose a report in her head. Since Theo and Warren were probably still on op, thus unable to lend themselves as human shields should things get out of hand, she had to be on top of her game. Dialogue with James was more like verbal fencing, dodging landmines, and flying through the Bermuda Triangle all at once. And unfortunately for her, she had nothing to offer him in ways of progress. At least she looked presentable.

Alexis ran an unsteady hand over her immaculate hair, tugging at the end of her ponytail. There was a chance that the others had followed him home, though it seemed unlikely; rare were the days when any of the four were in one location at the same time. And sometimes, it really was easier to love them from a distance. A very large, ocean-spanning distance, where no one could put shaving cream in her boots or make birthday cakes that sent her to the emergency room.

Still, what was the worst he could do? It wasn't like he could throttle her through Skype. And there would be personnel coming and going from the tent at all times; so really, how bad could it be?

* * *

"Ugh._ I can smell you all the way over here. Are you sure you bathed today?"_

For a second all she could do was stare. Not _'you're looking a littled peaked_;' no _'they're not taking care of you, let me talk to them_.' Swallowing, she finally found her voice. "And a good evening to you as well, brother dear." It took everything she had not to throw something at the transmissions grunt that was laughing at her from his desk. Apparently, the worst James could do was to humiliate her in front of her inferiors. _Thank you for nothing, you sociopathic prick._ She should have known he would pull a stunt like that. Putting her down in front of others was just another sign of affection from him; what doesn't embarrass you to death makes you stronger, as she well knew.

Several times during the ensuing conversation Alexis found herself wishing she actually could reach through the video feed and choke the cocky son of a bitch. Far from a warm reunion, she and her brother did nothing but exchange veiled threats, juvenile insults and expressed mutual doubt as to the other's intelligence. She'd actually been _worried _about him, imagine that. Afraid that, like so many other times, he might not make it back home. Of course he always did. The man had an uncanny knack for weaseling his way out of the stickiest situations with all limbs intact.

It wasn't till the discussion, such as it was, started to wind down that he finally questioned her wellbeing. Something between Alexis' shoulder blades unknotted a little, and she thawed towards him a degree or two. It was his way of calling truce. His expression didn't change a jot; he watched her just as carefully as he'd been doing throughout the entire conference. He managed to pull off brotherly concern while remaining aloof and condescending, a talent Alexis envied right now. Actual words of encouragement were too much to ask for; his idea of emotional support was whipping the covers off and turning the hose on you at four a.m. because you'd complained about being too tired in the mornings.

She tried asking about their brothers, but his vague, roundabout answers did nothing to lessen the usual anxiety. James couldn't say too much over this line, in any case, due to the sensitive nature of their missions. All she got out of him was last he had heard, they were still alive and successful in their endeavors. Alexis had to roll her eyes at this. Successful was her brother's way of saying that they'd probably gotten to blow shite up. The lucky sods.

"Well, at least one of you is back home in one piece." She tried to make it sound like she was actually glad it was him, and not one of the others. James caught the truculent tone, unfortunately, and his face darkened. Immediately she felt ashamed, and attempted to backtrack. "You are in one piece, right?"

His eyes flashed, but his face was devoid of all expression when he answered. "_If you can call it that." _A direct hit, and one she felt keenly. The familiar guilt coiled low in her belly, causing her to flinch back. And here she'd been disappointed because he wasn't Theo. She struggled for something to say through the shame that heated her cheeks, but he cut her off.

Alexis was unsure whether to be relieved or frustrated when they finally said their goodbyes. The fact that he had bothered to check on her at all made her feel lower than dirt, especially after all her uncharitable thoughts. It must have cost him a lot to do it. As she left the tent, the feeling of failure, her constant companion, hung over her, reminding her of his disappointment. He was an expert at inducing those sorts of emotions in her, whether she deserved it or not.

There was no one around to see, so she kicked at the gravel in a sudden fit of resentment. Even when he was light-years away, he still managed to get under her skin. She knew how he operated, and _dammit_ if she hadn't walked right into it.

The knowledge did little to lessen the bitter taste of guilt that stayed in her mouth, so she spat onto the ground and strode towards the barracks, seething the entire way.

* * *

She was obviously lost in thought when she ran into her wing mate. Frey's silver brows rose considerably; it wasn't like her to disregard her surroundings the way she was. He fell into step beside her, winding their way through the camp until they saw the roof of the barracks between the other buildings. She didn't greet him, but he was used to that. Though he was unfamiliar with the pensive scowl that drew down her brows; something else that she normally didn't do was brood. He knocked her shoulder with his in a companionable cuff, but she didn't even blink.

"Cat's got the tongue tonight, I see."

The hours – and James – were catching up to her, and all she could do was grunt at him in irritation. The older man saw far more than she was comfortable with. She liked to think she had down her brother's poker face, but in reality she still had a ways to go before she perfected it. So she shrugged, still scowling, and moved on ahead of him. He called after her."Oi!"

She breathed through her nose, stamping down on the frustration as she slowed back down again, letting him catch up with her. "Just family business, is all." She tried to brush it off.

This made Frey choke, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing aloud. "So they're back, I take it?"

Alexis groaned despite herself. "Just James so far."

"Ahhh." He'd met the man more than a handful of times, so that was all the information he needed. It had been a very long time since he'd met someone who actually _oozed _the word 'supercilious,' but damn if that one didn't remind him of his best friend back home. He shook his head at the thought. Those days were far behind him now, and he had no wish to dwell on things he couldn't change.

Beside him, his wing mate's expression had cleared some, but she still seemed out of sorts. He supposed it was just James being his usual wonderfully insensitive self, and wished that the other two had beaten him back home. The girl could use a friendly face or two that didn't want to provoke, coerce or otherwise use her in some fashion. Theo, now, there was a man he wished was around more. He was good for Alexis, but unfortunately he had been gone for a very long time, almost two years now if his memory served him.

Frey sighed to himself in aggravation, wishing once more that someone would set Commander Starling down a peg or three. His brothers usually managed to do the job just fine, but that was family. The rules were different with kin, always had been.

So he settled for a chuck under her chin, which she snorted at and batted away. Frey was one of the very few with whom she tolerated physical contact, something he prided himself on. He had known Lieutenant Alexis Starling, pilot, back when she was simply Alexis, honors student and almost-graduate of the Pierspont Academy, where he had taught avionics. It was a gig he went back to every time he was on leave, his way of reconnecting with the real world.

Alexis and he finally reached the barracks, where they stood outside for a tic, enjoying the rare breeze that found its way to them. Blowing out a sigh, she slumped against the warm metal of the wall, letting her usual ramrod posture melt into nonexistence. He leaned against the wall beside her, and both of them turned their faces to the heavens, where they could just make out the first of the evening's stars, winking in the gloom.

When Frey glanced back down her, Alexis' gaze was still affixed on the darkening sky, a remote expression in her eyes. He let her be, knowing that if she was going to talk, she'd do it in her own time. Finally she pursed her lips.

"I've been serving the cause for what, three years now?"

"Mm, sounds about right."

"And I'm a legal, grown adult with an I.Q. that would make Darwin jealous."

"Also true."

"So why in God's name does he still treat me like I'm _fifteen bloody years old?!"_ Her voice rose considerably towards the end, and she smacked a fist into the wall behind her with a dull metallic _thud._

He already knew the answer to that, or at least thought he did, so he just smiled a little. "I think that's the idea," was his vague response to her outburst.

Alexis snarled and threw her arms in the air. "W_hat's _the idea? If you can possibly explain that sociopath's train of thought, then by all means, enlighten me."

He cleared his throat, giving a one-shouldered shrug. "You're a grown woman, Alexis. You've got your own mind, and it's a damn good one. I've got a theory, that maybe he's just an overzealous brother who's terrified his little sister has outgrown him."

For a moment she gaped at him, mouth ajar. Then her face slowly crumpled, and suddenly she was doubled over, heaving with laughter. "Oh, _Oh._ God, that's perfect. _He's _afraid." She tried to catch her breath. "If he could hear you say that –"

"Hah!" He guffawed. "Let him. I'm sorry to tell you this, Alexis, but your brother's not as wonderful as he thinks he is."

"What-whatever happened to him being _afraid _of me?" She sputtered, still amused.

"Well, now, I'll tell you. No one likes to have their pupil outshine them. But you've gotten out from under his thumb at last, and he's terrified you're going to outdo him. Which I have no doubt you will."

Alexis' laughter finally died. When she turned back to him, her mouth was trembling, as if she were just barely holding onto unseen emotions. She looked as if she might say something, but thought better of it. She took in a ragged breath, and rubbed a hand down her face. "Aright Frey, fine. He's scared I don't need him anymore. I can get that." But despite her words, she shook her head. Instead of elaborating, however, she simply dropped down to fiddle with her bootlaces.

Frey knew a dismissal when he saw one, so he sighed to himself and bid her a good night. She reciprocated, her head still lowered. As he turned the corner and out of sight towards the men's dorm, Alexis sat back up on one knee, letting her shoulders fall back into the wall again. She squeezed her eyes shut before shaking her head and opening them back up to the stars. "You have no idea, mate.

You have no idea at all."

* * *

Something was happening over at the officer's mess. Flunkies were scrambling to and fro from the tables, officers juggling briefs and notices between one another. Most of the tent had picked up on this soon after Alexis noticed, and were rubbernecking and making premature bets. Johannson elbowed her, trying to draw her into one, but she scowled at him and went back to her breakfast, looking for all the world as if she had better things to do than gossip. In reality, she had all senses on high alert, scoping out anything of value that she could use. It was habit for her by now, and she multitasked effortlessly. One consequence of having the family she did was that she was forever on the lookout for an opportunity to advance.

And then she had what she wanted: the words 'scramble,' 'pilot' and 'A.S.A.P.' all in one sentence. Her lashes dropped for a moment, shading her expression, and she breathed in a quiet breath. Her eyes never left the officer's mess.

If you were watching closely, you could tell by the set of her shoulders and the twitch of her brows that she was one of the more solemn observers that were made curious despite themselves. Frey had his eyes on her as she rose from her seat, and she met his gaze as she passed by. She gave him a guilty grin, and made a point to glance back at the officer's table before headed towards the tent opening.

If you_ knew_ her and were watching closely, you could tell that she deliberately pulled her gaze back at the exact moment Colonel Vantz rounded their table and ran right into her. She apologized, very nicely, Frey thought, but didn't overdo it. She did, however, point out the powdered eggs that now adorned the Colonel's lapel right along with his rank insignia. Instead of stumbling her way through an explanation or floundering for the right thing to say, she whipped out a kerchief she kept tucked in her shirt pocket, and handed it off to him. Colonel Vantz grunted a thanks, and made to move past her. Just as he was about to the doorway, she called out to him. "I am going to need that back, you know. It belonged to my grandmother. I expect it back in my kit, dry cleaned and pressed, before 0900. Sir."

Frey couldn't help but admire her guts. She knew just which officer would appreciate a sense of humor, and she'd pegged Vantz dead on. The Colonel did a perfect double take, his thin brows nearly disappearing into his crew cut. His mouth pursed as if he'd tasted something sour, but his eyes were smiling. "Lieutenant, I will do my utmost to see that duty carried out." He replied, in all seriousness, before turning to make his leave. Frey knew this was it; if that girl was ever going to have an opening, she'd better start walking…_now._

And then she strolled off, steps behind the Colonel, humming something to herself. "Well, if it stains, you can just stitch me a new one," she tossed over her shoulder as she veered off…in the opposite direction.

The Colonel took two, three more steps, before coming to a halt. Paused, and then turned on his heel. "Lieutenant!"

She ignored the call just long enough to make him start towards her, and then she stopped walking. Turned, and waited. _Good girl, make him come to you._ The Colonel's face was tense, brackets framing his mouth, adding another ten years to his face that he didn't need. "Lieutenant, I'm glad I ran into you…a situation's come up, and we're in need of a pilot. If you'd join me in the brass tent, please."

She obeyed without question, falling in step just behind him, making sure she didn't lag behind. Vantz daubed at his front absently, the eggs almost entirely forgotten, and as they rounded the corner and out of sight, Frey caught a fraction of Starling's expression. Guarded as ever, but he swore he caught the hint of quiet smugness in the tilt of her brows and the set of her mouth. He shook his head, and went back to his breakfast. _Girl always did have too much of her brother in her._

* * *

The carrier was already prepped, blades churning up a year's worth of sand and grit around it, daring anyone to venture too close. Vantz and Starling strode toward it together, his hand guiding her in an old-fashioned courteous gesture she was sure he didn't realize he was making. Her gear was caught up in one fist, and resting in the crook of her other arm was her flight helmet. Finally, she'd found something interesting to do.

The bird would take them out to the crash site, where it would then gather up the soldiers and cargo that had been stranded. At first glance it seemed nothing more than a standard pick-up, but there was an almost frenetic air to Vantz as he'd briefed her. And there was that feeling that slithered its way down her spine, that warning that maybe she needed to take a closer look at the fine print. It was a useful talent that a few soldiers were lucky enough to pick up on, ones that have either seen enough action or were just paranoid enough to actually listen to what their first instincts told them. Alexis had a feeling she may have stumbled onto something more significant than a simple technical malfunction.

The Captain that she would be lifting would brief her further, Vantz informed her. A Marine – a Yank. The pilot's brows lifted in quiet surprise. What was an American bird doing out here, so close to unfriendly territory? The Colonel had read her expression, his own darkening momentarily. "We're unsure of the details right now. What we do know is that they've got something hot on board, and that it needs to get to Washington A.S.A.P. You now officially know as much as we do."

For a minute all she'd been able to do was stare. That was it? A hot item in transit and a faulty reading that resulted in a crash landing? "I'm in, but I'll need to know more than that. My orders?"

"Get those Marines Stateside, whatever the cost."

"Is it a weapon? Is there risk of another malfunction?"

"Not as long as it's you at the stick."

He didn't answer the first question, she noticed right away. Alexis' mouth tightened, and she ran a hand across her smoothed-back hair, deliberating. That she was going was no question. It wasn't even a question of _why_. But that same warning came to her again, chilling her, warning her that something wasn't right. It could be nothing - a routine black-ops run gone to the Pit; surveillance, sabotage, nuclear warheads, and everything that implied.

Christ, if this was just anothernuclear transport, she was going to break someone's face.

Grimacing, she turned back to Vantz, who was watching her intently. "We've got to get moving, before we're intercepted."

She grunted in acknowledgement, and without another word she breezed past him, headed for the barracks. _The States_. How wonderful. She could just hear James' voice in her head, sniping about the uneducated, overfed masses she'd be sure to be inundated with. She herself was less than thrilled; having never made the trip across the pond, she was unsure as to what awaited her. Far be it from her to not love a good adventure, but this wasn't a sightseeing trip. This was Serious Business. (Warren's voice now, the ever attendant peanut gallery usher. She gave him a mental swat.)

Alexis packed light; as it was, nearly everything she owned she could fit into that duffel. No one would ever accuse her of being sentimental. The most personal thing she owned was folded into her wallet, and it weighed about as much as a fistful of feathers. Alexis patted it vaguely, out of long habit to assure herself it was still there, before scooping up her flight helmet and heading back out the door and into the unforgiving sunlight. She met Vantz at the edge of the airstrip, and they jogged towards the waiting aircraft together.

_Well, whatever the hell you are…get ready, 'cause here I come._

* * *

The downed carrier was a mere six kliks out. Alexis made the trip in half that many minutes, something she took not a little pride in. She hovered for a moment, letting the weight of the craft carry itself, before setting her down gently a few yards out. She was in the perfect position to watch the small squadron of men hustle for her bird, four of them carrying a suspiciously oblong container between them. Just behind them came a handful of more men, these looking a little more official than the ragtag bunch that encircled the cargo.

She eyeballed the load carefully, doing a few quick calculations based on the size and depth of the metal crate. So she had her eyes on the thing when out of nowhere all four of the soldiers simultaneously pitched forward, only one of them catching themselves before they hit their knees. The other two doubled back quickly, and she stared as the black man threw his weight onto the top of the cargo.

Only to see him get bucked off seconds later.

The container jumped again, and Alexis felt her breath catch. She'd never seen a missile do _that_ before. Her grip on the controls tightened convulsively, and she inhaled through her nose to steady her jangling nerves.

It took all four men to wrestle the crate back up between them, but as they lifted it to their shoulders, all hell broke loose.

A gleaming metal spike shot up through the roof of the crate, nearly dislodging the Marines again. Two of them lost their hold, and Alexis watched, frozen, as the back end of the crate exploded outward, electricity fizzing across the torn metal. _Sweet Jesus Mary and Joseph -_ And then she wasn't frozen any longer, but springing free of her crash webbing and sweeping her rifle up in one smooth motion, diving through the back of the cockpit into the cargo bay. Through the open hatch she made out a flurry of motion, cries of anger and pain, and gunfire. She ducked into the wall beside the open hatch, pressing her back into the thrumming metal.

Keeping a firm hold of her rifle, she craned her neck for a sitrep before ducking back behind her cover. Bullets flew through the hatchway, sparking against the far wall, and she snarled in frustration. Dammit, she couldn't help anybody if she was downed by friendly fire! She waited a few more seconds, and then heard the barrage of bullets pull away, towards the aft of the vehicle. Taking the chance, she slithered around the edge of the doorway, bringing her rifle to bear.

Her brain stopped working for about .2 seconds as she took in the incredible sight before her. Something long and sinuous flailed against the bright desert sand, twisting this way and that as it struggled to find its bearings. The sun bounced off the pockmarked metal, and she blinked away the spots in her eyes. Then she was moving forward once more, weapon at the ready, taking in the soldiers' positions and situations as she did so. Two of them looked like they had been hit around their knees, one of them crouching as the other one held him steady, both of them slowly bleeding out into the hot sand.

The black soldier was screaming something at the Captain, and the Captain responded in kind. For some reason this caught the machine's attention; before anyone could move, it had flung itself towards the American, whipping the tail end of it at his torso. With a snarl, the Captain struck out at it with the butt of his rifle, and the other Marine barreled forward until he was shooting at point blank range, right into the thing's middle. Sparks spat back at him, the thing gyrating in the air as it struggled to find its abuser.

The officer took advantage of the momentary distraction, and lunged straight for it. He wrapped himself around it in a bear hug, both tumbling to the ground in a frenzy. He cried out as the spines that covered the creature penetrated his uniform, digging into his flesh. "Hit it hit it _HIT IT_!" He bawled out to his men, and though they tried to find an opening, no one wanted to risk shooting their Captain. Finally the man pulled himself under the thing, and kept right on rolling, using his momentum to fling the metal creature off of him. Unfortunately, he threw it straight at Alexis.

The pilot didn't stop to think. She simply acted. She pulled up her rifle as if she were swinging a pick axe up over her head. The elongated muzzle caught the thing midflight, impaling it. She followed through, swinging the rifle up into the air, and she twisted, tracking it. With a snarl, she drove the metal creature into the hull of the carrier, hard enough for the barrel to crumple just a little.

The creature writhed, struggling to get at her, but Alexis held the stock of her rifle with both hands down at the butt, keeping as far out of reach as she could. She heard someone bark "Duck!" and she obeyed without hesitation. A submachine gun was thrust above her head where she had just been, and the soldier who held it fired.

The small explosion knocked her back a foot or so, and the soldier tumbled back with her. Whipping her hair away from her face, she climbed back to her feet and stared at the thing that shuddered and creaked in front of her, smoke and sparks rising from it. Finally it gave one last harsh grinding noise and went limp.

There was absolute silence for perhaps two seconds, and then the world started spinning again. Captain Lennox was rapping out orders to what remained of his men, and two of the officers went to assist their brethren that had been injured, one of them diving back into the damaged carrier to find a first aid kit. Two Marines followed him, searching for some material to keep the creature contained once more. Alexis eyed it warily; it didn't look like it would be doing any more damage today.

Lennox approached her. A hand clapped her shoulder, and he shook her a little. "Nice work, Lieutenant. You and Stokes probably saved what's left of our asses just now." And then he crouched to check on the man that had fired the last few shots. He hauled him up by his arms and dusted him off, both of them laughing. Alexis shook their head at them. _Yankees._

* * *

The Captain wasn't exactly the type to follow protocol under the best of circumstances, so as she and some of the others helped to patch up the hull of the Osprey, he briefed her in detail. Never mind that she wasn't part of the United States Armed Forces – war had a funny way of uniting the most dissimilar people, much like secrets.

Qatar was gone. She swallowed heavily as he told her about the rampant destruction the giant metal machine had wrought on the base, leaving nothing behind except the men she saw here. Three of them had died en route to the nearest town, and another had been lost even as they were lifted from the kill zone. His voice cracked a little as he told her this part; he'd been close to Fig, even if the man couldn't get it through his head that not everyone enjoyed alligator gumbo.

"So I guess you're here for the long haul," he joked as they transferred their belongings from one Osprey to the other. "Nothing like killing a freak of nature to bring people together, I guess." Her sentiments exactly.

They hit the last refueling station this side of the Pond. There they found another medic to do a quick onceover on all of them, declaring them fit to travel. He didn't ask many questions, but then again, he'd probably seen too much to really be curious about anything. Lennox and Epps, who turned out to be his Second, disappeared very briefly to contact the Pentagon and let them know the sitrep had changed.

Then they hit the Atlantic.

The flight in total took about seven hours, and she was pushing it all the way. Her copilot took over about three of those, but she was too keyed up to actually rest. She dozed fitfully in her chair for an hour or so, then gave up and headed to the cargo area.

Epps and the sharpshooter Stokes were conversing against one wall of the carrier, with Lennox on the other side of them, cleaning his gear. He'd throw in a comment or two, but mostly he remained silent, his face drawn and pensive. He worked through his rifle with a distracted air; Alexis figured he could do it in his sleep, from the look of it. She took a quiet breath, and settled herself on the bench a little ways down from him. She'd brought a fruit bar with her, but she hadn't touched it yet. She turned it over in her hands idly, much like Lennox with his rifle.

She caught him eyeballing her hands after a bit, and she offered the snack to him without a word. He made a face at her, and then took it, depositing his weapon on his lap. "Hey, strawberry," he laughed. "Been a while since I tasted one of those."

"I nicked it at the depot before we started out," she said with a wan smile. "Lost my appetite somewhere, though."

His smile faded, and he ran a finger down the plastic wrapping. "Hell, I haven't eaten since last night, and I still don't think I could eat anything." Then he stared down at the food, and grunted. "Ok, maybe a little bit." She had to laugh at that.

Lennox groaned as he ate the fruit bar, half of it disappearing in one bite. He polished it off with another one, and chewed thoughtfully. "So," he said around a mouthful, "how long you think they'll keep us?"

Alexis snorted. "I heard you Yanks love your red tape, so…what, give it a week or two and maybe they'll let you call home?"

"Aren't you just a ray of sunshine."

"I call it like I see it, Captain."

He grimaced and let his head fall back onto the wall behind him. "God, if the security of the whole damn country wasn't at stake, I'd say screw it and go AWOL." His voice was wistful, and she glanced at him curiously.

"Got family?"

"Yeah," he said, a slow, sweet smile spreading across his face. "Got myself a gorgeous wife and a little baby girl I haven't gotten to hold yet."

Epps overheard this and threw a cleaning rag at him. "You know, it's not like she's even going to remember you bein' gone. Be grateful she ain't any older."

The Captain made a point of ignoring him, and dug in one of his pockets for something. Epps groaned playfully. "Aw, no, not the pictures!" He turned to Alexis. "Girl, you gone an' done it now. You take that wallet and you'll be listenin' to him wax poetic the whole ride home."

"Er…" But it was too late; Lennox had already freed his wallet from a back pocket, and was shoving it into her hands. She looked down at the piece of leather with some consternation; baby pictures were not something she was normally interested in, on the best days. But Lennox had that look on his face that told her she'd better open the damn thing and start cooing. So she cracked it open, and when she did, an accordion of plastic came tumbling out, nearly to her feet. Down the bench, she heard Epps and several others start guffawing. _Bollocks. Walked right into that one._

But as she glanced down the column of pictures, something inside her softened a bit. He hadn't been exaggerating; his wife was beautiful, in an earthy, warm sort of way. The baby, of course, looked more like a pinch-faced grub worm than an actual person, but Alexis made the appropriate noises, and the Captain seemed somewhat mollified. There was even a more recent picture of the little one, and this time she thought maybe she could understand what people saw in children at this stage. Her eyes were open, and full of a personality just beginning to bloom. She wasn't really smiling, but her lips were parted in a coo, and she looked like a dainty little doll in her old-fashioned bonnet and dress made of frills.

Alexis carefully refolded the pictures back into the wallet, and handed it over to him. He wore that saccharine expression again, and she couldn't help but smirk as he carefully tucked the wallet back into his pocket. He patted it afterwards, as if to confirm it was really there.

Her smile faded at this, and something in her chest squeezed. She made the same gesture with her own wallet, which held a similar treasure. She shifted in her seat, feeling the pressure of it against her hip. Suddenly she had the urge to pull it out and glance over it again, but she held back. It wasn't like her to show such open affection around people, and her pictures were something very dear and private to her.

Epps interrupted her thoughts. "Well, girl? You got a mommy and daddy waitin' for you back in merry ole England?" He'd meant it in jest, as a light jab towards her obvious youth, but Alexis' mouth pinched.

"I do not, as a matter of fact." Her tone came off as stiff, and she automatically pulled herself upright, till her shoulders were square and her back straight.

The Sergeant's brows rose, but he didn't seem to take offense. "Jus' razzin' ya, girl. Relax. You did yourself proud back there; nothin' to be defensive about."

But Alexis' hackles had been raised despite her best attempt to retain her temper. She was forever struggling to find her composure, it seemed, no matter how well her superiors had taught her. Pride was simply one of her downfalls – it ran in the family.

So she didn't respond to the Sergeant's words, instead fishing into her kit for another cereal bar. She saw Lennox roll his eyes at his second from out the corner of her eye and cuff him on the shoulder. Alexis ordered herself to relax; there was no need to make a scene when she'd been dealing with this sort of thing throughout the history of her military career.

She let the taste of the strawberry filling soothe her a bit, and her shoulders finally dropped. With a sigh, she settled her weight against the bulkhead, and closed her eyes. Before she even realized it, she slipped into sleep.

* * *

Lennox woke Alexis up at 1450, informing her that her copilot was ready for her to take over again. Her dreams had kept her from a solid rest, and she passed a hand down her face as if scrubbing away the visions that lay imprinted against her lids. She took the controls once more, pushing it to full capacity. They were over halfway there, and she was eager to be dirtside and find some busy work so she wouldn't have time to bloody _think._ There wasn't enough to distract her up here, aside from checking that the nav and technical systems were functioning properly. The bigger birds weren't as much fun to work with, though she did enjoy landing and take-off; it was different from her own Raptor, thus somewhat challenging.

Alexis made a face. Her mind went back to the question the Captain had put towards her earlier: just how long would they be sitting on their arses, working through all that red tape? She was impatient to be up and active, to be of some use. Filling out endless reports in a windowless room with officers breathing down her neck was something she tried to avoid at all costs. If they would only cut her loose, then maybe she would be able to figure out what was going on.

But dammit all, if she didn't cooperate, she'd never get anything out of them. She shifted restlessly, her wallet once more calling away her attention, and without meaning to she brushed her fingers across the pocket.

She wondered what the Commander would have to say about all this.

But there was no time to contact him, no way to do so, even. With a low groan, she slouched back in her seat, the leather creaking irritably at her. Her hand came down on the console hard, and it nearly woke her copilot up. Ignoring him, she tapped idly against the dash, picking through and discarding several scenarios.

Finally she pulled herself back up, and set her jaw. As loathe as she was to admit, there was little she could do at the time. She'd just have to find an opening once the Americans were through with her, whenever that would be. So she blew out a breath, and set her mind to focus on something calming. Meditation was something she normally didn't use during her flights, but it was going to be a long trip. And she could use something to soothe her shot nerves, though she struggled to tamp down on the unwelcome sensation. She was unused to being so rattled. But something huge was going down, and she knew she had to see it through.

Until then, however…she breathed in, out, once, twice, three times, and then settled inside of herself, ready to wait it out.

* * *

As always, comments/concrit/general expressions of interest are encouraged.

So Scorponok's tail did not take kindly to being poked and prodded, and decided to whump the Marines, in the process shooting up and trashing the controls of the carrier jet that originally picked them up. Just in case you didn't catch that.

Look for Mikaela's POV in the next chapter if you want to know the full history of how Alexis got further entangled with the Transformers, and snagged that promotion. And _yes,_ it's nearly complete.


End file.
